Vulnerable
by Armontentia
Summary: Drabbles. Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa continue to fight their emotions to stay respected in their society. Purebloods can help them rise and make them fall. Andromeda gives up on the years of practice and the idea of becoming a Pureblood Princess, Bellatrix falls into temptation and Narcissa is stronger than anyone expected.
1. Rare Moments

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

_A/N: This is the first chapter of these drabbles. They're about all of the Black Sisters, I'm planning on doing them until I reach 1998 or perhaps 2000._

_Enjoy!_

)O(

_1957 _

An old mahogany grand-father clock stands in the corner of the richly-coloured room. Its face is enclosed in a thin circle of gold, with little snakes entwined together.

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

A small girl sits cross-legged on the floor in front of it; her green silk dress spread out around her and her large eyes watching the hand that indicates the seconds go round and round the face of the clock. A single hot teardrop rolls down her youthful face while she continues to watch the clock, transfixed.

The noise has always scared Bellatrix Black a little. She hears that noise and thinks of how quickly the time in her life goes by. She hears that noise and the following night she'll have nightmares where she is the hand of the clock; continuously following the same pattern. Trapped. She'll wake up silently crying and having to remind herself of what her parents would do if they saw her to make herself stop.

T_ick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

She does not understand why she keeps coming to watch it. She feels as if she is under that curse: the curse they call Unforgivable, the curse that is illegal–

Struggling to remember the name, she scrunches up her eyes.

_The Imperius Curse._

Yes, she's put under that curse by the clock, and she's got no way of stopping it. She's got no way of bringing the act to a halt.

"Bellatrix, hurry up; when we come back from your Aunt Walburga's you'll have plenty of time to look at the thing," her misunderstanding mother's voice snaps from the bottom of the stairs outside the room Bellatrix sits in.

_No, Mama, _Bellatrix thinks. _I've got no time at all. Not really._

)O(

_1960_

They're running. They're running together, occasionally breaking into a skip. They're running in circles in that abandoned little corn field next to their Manor where the grass is taller than any of them and they have to clutch hands so they don't lose each other. They're running in the sunset, where the orange glow puts the entire field in a spotlight.

The sun's rays give Narcissa's golden curls an angel-like glow. The sun's rays highlight the blonde tints in Andromeda's waves. The sun's rays give Bellatrix's onyx eyes an eerie glint.

The moment is one of complete freedom, but it lasts for only a few moments before the girls' father is yelling at them to get back to the Manor.

It is a moment that means nothing, yet everything. It is a moment none of them ever forget.

)O(

_1960_

The entire Black family sits down at a long dining table. With straight backs, the three sisters are next to each other in formal matching dresses – Bellatrix in blue, Andromeda in mauve and Narcissa in lilac. There is also a boy, a year or so old and he sits next to stern looking parents, whose faces are lined.

"Have you heard about this… 'Lord Voldemort'?" the childrens' Grandfather Pollux asks.

The name runs through the room without a single wince or narrow of the eyes. Something that changes in several years.

"Yes. He's being foolish. Too drastic. Word has it he's going to ask us to join him, soon. I won't say no, but I won't say yes, either. I'm not going to help a man who's probably only going to be around another year or so. I've heard of his plans but I doubt he'll accomplish them." Walburga says, her voice stern and controlling. Sipping from her goblet of elf-made wine, she starts coughing, trying to muffle the sound with a handkerchief.

"I told you you shouldn't have started smoking, Walburga," Orion mutters, snapping his fingers for an elf to help his wife. "It only makes your chest worse."

"Be quiet," Walburga chuckles, "things like these do not affect us Blacks."

None of the children pay any attention to the woman's comment apart from Bellatrix. Her head tilts slightly upwards, her eyes come into contact with her aunt's and she blinks.

_Things like these do not affect us Blacks._

)O(

_1961_

Hands are clutching at her–hands that are old, hands that are tiny, hands that are frail, hands that are delicate, hands that are wrinkled, smooth, shaking, still, their fingernails sharp and pointed, filed and tidy, jagged and uncared for, and some–

Some of the hands are all bone and the nails non-existent.

Andromeda wakes up, screaming, before Bellatrix is there, stroking Meda's hair and her face and lying next to her, wrapping arms around her body, embracing her with that odd scent she carries that everyone seems to love but know it's not quite normal.

"They're coming for us–he's coming for us," Andromeda whispers, her voice hysterical and unnaturally mature for such a young age.

"I know," Bellatrix murmurs back, her voice hushed and smoothing, "but we can't stop him. I've read about him and he's more powerful than anyone gives him credit for; there are rumours of the history between him and Dumbledore so I can't think of which one is the most skilled. He could come for us and kill us all before we had the–"

She stops in mid-sentence when she sees the terrified look on her sister's face, the tears soaking into the pillow.

"Sorry."

)O(

_1962_

Appearing on Platform 9 and ¾, Narcissa lets a moment of weakness escape her.

She clutches to Bellatrix, a mixture of raven black and blonde curls hiding both the sisters' faces. Bellatrix crouches down so she is level with Narcissa, and kisses her on the forehead.

"You've still got Andromeda, Cissa."

"She doesn't like me," Narcissa mutters, sniffing.

"Don't be stupid," Bellatrix laughs, "we're sisters; of course Andy likes you! She loves you!"

The word 'stupid' hurts Narcissa, but she hides it. "Not like you do."

A pause where Bellatrix smiles slightly sadly. "Maybe that's for the best, Cissa."

)O(

_1964_

She's walking through the fifth-floor corridor with Rodolphus Lestrange, the one person who can seem to protect her at Hogwarts from the insults that are thrown at her.

She doesn't normally care about the teasing and bullying that happens to her, because none of these people matter. Not in her world.

"Oi, Black! Heard you had a little breakdown in Charms, yesterday! Has that mental problem of yours finally reached to the point you can't even keep up your little pureblood Queen façade?"

The comment of her questionable sanity is not what makes her spin around, snarling.

It's the fact that the Gryffindor who stands in front of her seems to think her status in the pureblood community is a _lie_.

Even Rodolphus draws his wand.

"I'm worth more than you'll ever be, Mudblood. You can walk about thinking that everyone will accept you, but have you not even heard about the Dark Lord? Haven't you even _thought _about the fact that some of the people you decide to talk to when you aren't even worth their time will one day be standing by the Dark Lord as they rip your precious little world into shreds?"

The corridor is silent.

"I didn't think so."

)O(

_1965_

_My Dear Cissy,_

_I know it's hardly easy without Andromeda or I there with you, but please; act strong. Keep your chin up. Stand tall. Even at a young age, your attitude matters. Mother says Walburga's been spreading a rumour about you–that you're turning **weak**. I wouldn't pay attention to the old hag but because she's achieved having two heirs, she's turned spiteful. I wouldn't put it past her to say you're turning into Andromeda._

_About Andromeda. She's been talking to the wrong people. Mudbloods, half-blood's, blood traitors. Of course, she's involved with Purebloods, too, but there are only a couple she can stand. Well, there are only a couple **I **can stand, but I act as if I can stand all the other ones to their faces. Andy shows she's not bothered in the slightest about them._

_It's awful._

_She's only 13 and yet I'm so scared she's going to betray us. In our Pureblooded society, there are few people I truly like, and of course Andy is one of them. But if she runs away in future years then… We cut off all communication with her and I do not see how either of us will be able to achieve that._

_I know I should not worry. But the younger years are some of the most important. That's why you have to act independent. Because otherwise you'll be ripped to shreds by the women and men in the world who do not understand._

_Few understand._

_So; that is why it is so important for you to convince yourself as if you have never had a sibling to miss when others are around to judge._

_I'm sorry._

_All my love,_

_Bella_

An old grand-father clock stands in the corner of the room.

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

This time, it is Narcissa who sits in front of it. She is shedding tears from the letter and she is frowning as the hand goes back and forth between 5 and 6 minutes past 11. The word that comes to mind reminds her of exactly how she feels without Bella or Andy here beside her, scolding her because if something scares Bella, it should scare everyone else, as well.

_Broken. _

It flitters through her head like a baby bird that has just learnt to fly. It is not as graceful as it one day will be. It makes slightly jerky movements as it flaps its wings.

But it flies out of her brain, in the end, because, well: it can't stay in the same spot forever. And Bella has told her that she must not let it if it could.

)O(

_1966_

The scarlet steam engine is standing there when the Black family stands on the platform. Narcissa's been here before, of course, but for once the platform is _hers_. She's the one boarding the train for the first time and she is the one who will be away from her parents for a whole term for the first time in her life.

And she can't wait.

Away from her Mother's constant nagging that she's such a pretty girl with so much potential but she needs to take more care with her presentation and can they go dress shopping? It's been a while and little Cissy's grown a few inches and her clothes are too short and the sleeves look daft and now she's developing breasts and curves–

She breaths in the air that is hardly fresh and calms herself.

Yes. It'll do her some good to get away from her parents.

)O(

_1967_

Andromeda grins at Ted Tonks, a Muggleborn Hufflepuff with a kind nature that she can not help but adore. He is the one person in the whole school–the whole world–she can open up to–she can't open up to her sisters anymore because if they knew what was going on in her head they'd be heartbroken and _furious _is not even the word to describe how angry they'd be.

"Who're you smiling at?" Cissa squeals, always assuming it's a boy. "Where are they?" And she sneers as she sees Ted. "Oh, Andy, that Mudblood thinks you're smiling at _him_," she laughs. "_Pathetic_."

Struggling to keep her grin on her face, Andromeda turns around and walks away, holding hands with her younger sister and lacing their fingers together.

"Pathetic," she mutters.

)O(

_1968_

"Cygnus, it is not a matter of her sex, it's a matter of how capable she'd be as a Death Eater! I realise it will be difficult for her to handle with her N.E.W.T.s coming up, but she could go far. I would like to start training her as soon as possible. She has talent and a good blood line–"

At the word _good_, Cygnus raises his eyebrows.

"An almost flawless blood line," Lord Voldemort sighs, his eyes looking at the ceiling. Even trying to convince a supporter is difficult and his eyes flash a brighter red at the disrespect.

"I see your point, My Lord," Cygnus murmurs, "but surely Bellatrix will not be an acceptable protégée as the fact remains she is a _girl_."

"Do not disagree with me!" Voldemort snaps. "I will find a way to have your daughter as a Death Eater and _you _can not stop me. No one can."

)O(

_1969_

"Bella, come to Hogsmeade with us."

"Can't you spend more time with us? It's your last year."

"Please, Bella, come outside to the river for a bit?"

Her sisters are always asking _requests _of her, and she is irritated they can not realise she has countless amounts of homework to do and she has to revise otherwise she'll fail her N.E. . And she wants to tell them she trains with the Dark Lord, but she swore she wouldn't and so she keeps it to herself.

"I don't have any time."

"And what comes in my last year? Exams."

"I'll be too distracted. I might come down later."

Her replies are short and snappy and the reactions from Andromeda and Narcissa are always the same.

A sigh.

"Okay."

)O(

_1970_

She's finally free from the place that allows disgraces to Wizardkind to enter into its grounds. Hogwarts is beautiful in an odd way and she half loves it, but she is more than glad to know she does not have any reason to return here ever again and come face-to-face with people who do not have the right to talk to her.

"Well done, Miss Black," Albus Dumbledore says as he shakes hands with her and he looks her in the eye with sadness because somehow he _knows _she's with Voldemort now and he always–and he does not know why–had some hope for her.

"Thank you, Professor."


	2. Falling Apart

_A/N: Oh my life, I'm so sorry that this took so long! Lots of stuff is going on and I also got addicted to the Sims 2._

_That is my excuse, as bad as it is._

_Anyway, I'm really sorry, but I finally got round to this next chapter! I'm sorry if the next update is as long as this one D: also the first drabble in this one, well… it was originally going to be smut and I was planning on Gamma helping me write it, but I was kind of on an adrenaline rush and didn't want to stop._

_And the smut was out of my comfort zone._

)O(

_1971_

The Dark Lord narrows his eyes as footsteps come from behind him.

They're light and they're practically inaudible–they would be silent to nearly anyone else–but he is Lord Voldemort and nothing escapes his notice. His wand is already in his hand and so he makes no movement, gives no sign that he has noticed someone enter the room until they're right behind him and he moves his wand and there's a _bang _as the body hits the floor.

He turns, expecting perhaps a worthless servant he can have a little fun with at his feet, but no; Bellatrix is there, eyes wide and shocked.

"Ah," he murmurs. "Bella."

"My Lord," she says quietly and it's a somewhat seductive purr; a tone she uses more often than not these days.

He takes hold of her elbow and makes her stand up, examining her expression. Her hair is dishevelled and her robes are now slightly dusty, but he holds her around the waist even though he would usually expect only the tidiest appearance from anyone who is in his presence.

His other hand drops the wand onto the floorboards and instead moves to her breasts and she's already breathing heavily. It has taken no time at all for him to realise that even the slightest contact from him can send her in a daze and make her dizzy; and when he's touching her like this she's having to grip onto him to stay up straight.

"My Lord," she groans as his erection presses against her torso, their height difference even more pronounced than normal when they're this close to each other.

But she forgets he loves to mess around with her and when he lets go of her body and pushes her away, she hopes it's just a joke, but then he shoves her out of the room and shuts the door and she remembers that she can never get attached to him.

Because he'll only hurt her.

)O(

_1972_

The seventh-year Slytherin's greedy hands roam around Narcissa's developing body, and she doesn't quite know how to tell him to stop because she doesn't enjoy this one bit; in fact, she feels as disgraceful as a Mudblood.

He's lifting her skirt up and about to pull down her tights and she's fighting back tears.

"Rowle," she whimpers, "please–"

But Rowle, always jumping to conclusions, expects her sentence to be begging him for sex, and he smirks. "Of course, Miss Black."

Lifting up the elastic of her knickers, his tongue sticks out slightly and he runs it down her body, from her jaw, down her throat, down her breasts, down her waist and–

And then it dawns on her–she's a _Black_. She can do whatever the hell she wants, demand the impossible that she will _make _possible, she may be the most timid Black there ever was but she also has an anger deep down, an anger as bold as Bella's.

She slaps Rowle across the face, and when he's still from shock she kicks him in the balls and then he's doubled-over and she reaches for her wand and shrieks '_Stupefy!_' and runs to her dormitory where she writes a letter to her Father.

And she's suddenly got a different look on her ladylike attitude. She'll get her own back on the people who hurt her.

)O(

_1973_

She's standing outside the castle with her arms wrapped around her body and pulling the cloak she wears tighter. Her breath becomes visible in the night air and it's a freezing January night that she finds _simply beautiful_.

The stars that burn bright in the sky reflect in her onyx irises and she names each one as her eyes pass over them. She looks at one of the galaxies and her jaw is firm and her hands are balled into fists.

_Andromeda._

The image of Narcissa's face when she looked at the crowd at her graduation flashes through her mind. Back to reality. She's got tears in her eyes and they gently make their way down her face, and she grabs her wand and bursts of blinding light occur from it and she screams.

_I hate you_.

And she means it.

)O(

_1974_

Dark twinkling eyes look up at Andromeda Tonks and her hand strokes tufts of mouse brown hair. She smiles at her daughter but when Nymphadora's hair turns a raven black and grows longer and thicker, Andromeda freezes, and something that should've occurred to her when she ran away from her family makes her eyes water.

She could travel as far as the galaxy she's named after but she'll never get away from who she is. There'll be constant reminders that will make her feel like she's been punched in the gut and she knows that there'll be times where she wants to run away back to her sisters.

But she also knows that her love for Dora will keep her here with Ted.

)O(

_1975_

Soft ruffles of cream material pass between long pale fingers. Thin ivory silk covers a beautiful, angelic face with perfect features and a band of roses holds the veil in place. White ballerina shoes cover delicate feet and diamond earrings dangle from Narcissa Black's ears. It may well be the last time she thinks of herself as Narcissa _Black_, because in the next hour she'll be Narcissa _Malfoy_, and it's everything she's ever dreamed of.

Her makeup is light and soft, merely highlighting her eyes and there's only a little sweep of blusher on each cheek. She's got butterflies in her stomach and she looks down at her finger, where the engagement ring she's worn since she was 17 is.

But as she's walking down the decorated isle and she feels everyone's eyes on her, she has to force herself to not look at anyone but Lucius's face because otherwise she'll never stop searching for Meda.

And maybe it's a good thing that she's starting a new family with Lucius. Maybe it'll take her mind of her runaway sister.

)O(

_1976_

"You are trying for a child."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Bellatrix is happy with this?"

"Not particularly…_ happy_, but she knows where she stands as a pureblood wife."

"In other words, she has no say in it?"

Rodolphus hesitates. He glances down at the floor but meets Lord Voldemort's eyes again.

"Yes, my Lord."

A smirk graces Voldemort's face. "I imagine Bellatrix took a long time to agree to that."

"I still haven't fully agreed with it, to be truthful, my Lord," a new voice laughs from the doorway, and Rodolphus does not turn round to face his wife but the Dark Lord raises his non-existent eyebrows at her, and though her hood covers most of her face, her thin, blood-red lips are visibly forming a grin.

"At least you don't push me away from touching you anymore," Rodolphus mutters under his breath, not realising she's right behind him.

Her hand grips his shoulder and she throws back her head, her laughter ringing through the room and her hood falling down.

"You can't blame me," she says, completely at home in her sister's Manor and in the presence of her Master, "it could have been classed as rape, and I'm hardly expected to just lie there and take it."

Voldemort chuckles at the couple, his hand taking hold of Bella's and he bends down to kiss it, and he knows she'll be having indecent thoughts of him from his touch so purposely moves his lips to her wedding ring.

"I wish you the best of luck, then, Madam Lestrange."

)O(

_1977_

Two Death Eaters enter the parlour, faces lowered to the floor. It is not Lord Voldemort who stands there, waiting for them, but Bellatrix.

"Well?"

Her voice is bitter and they each know she's disappointed that she wasn't the one to be chosen for a mission chasing her own cousin.

"Got away, didn' 'ey? Ov'erwise we'd 'ave 'em 'ere ."

"Of course you would." She mutters, doubting they have enough brain cells between them to even keep hold of the two Order members for long. "Where's your companion?"

"Injured worse than us. Took 'im to ya sister so she could fix 'im up."

Bellatrix sighs and frowns.

"We got two Muggles, though, Missus."

That's the younger Death Eater, and she closes her eyes in frustration at his calling her '_Missus_'.

"Yes, two Muggles make the world of difference, don't they?"

And though she's furious that James and Sirius got away, she wonders if part of her fury is because she was hoping to see the cousin she still loves after all these years.

)O(

_1978_

Holding her daughter in her arms, Andromeda walks through Diagon Alley, wincing when Nymphadora tugs on her hair. "Stop it, Dora," Andromeda whispers, "that hurts."

So Dora stops and she wraps her hands around her Mother's neck, apologising for causing her pain. But then a woman who looks very much alike to Andromeda catches her eye and she frowns, because she's sure she's seen a photo of that woman before in the Daily Prophet.

"Mum," Dora says, "Who's that?"

Andromeda turns round and her face is even paler than either of her sisters' skin, and she almost drops the five-year old.

'_That's your aunty_,' she wants to whisper, but she's frozen and she's staring at her tall, dark, gorgeous older sister.

Bellatrix has frozen, too. Her curls blow around her face in the wind and her eyes flicker between Andromeda and Nymphadora and, looking as if she's going to be sick, she turns and walks away.

* * *

"You're sure it was her?" Narcissa murmurs, handing Bella a glass of gin.

Taking a sip, Bella nods. "And she has a daughter, Cissy. We have a niece. A fucking half-blood little _bitch _who's been graced with Black blood."

Silence for several minutes.

"How come she can have a child and I can't?" Bellatrix suddenly wails, and the glass smashes in her hand. Shards of it get stuck in her hand and it's shaking and bloody, and Narcissa swears under her breath, summoning a towel with a wave of her wand. "Am I that much of a failure of a Black that our dead relatives have decided they won't let me raise an heir for Rodolphus?"

Narcissa stops picking out the glass from Bella's flesh.

"Bella," she growls, "you need to get a fucking _grip_. You've done nothing wrong. You don't even _want _a child. You're not a failure of a Black, you're the best damn one there's ever been. Look; Andromeda could have all the children she wants, but that _does not _make her better than you. You've always said you weren't made to be a Mother and you've always been proud of that, saying you don't want a little brat anyway. If you honestly want an heir this much, then I'll find a way for you to get one. But if you talk about yourself like that again, I swear to _Merlin _I'll–"

But she never gets to finish her sentence because Bellatrix throws her arms around her little sister and kisses her on the cheek.

"I love you, Cissy."

It's completely unlike her and she feels embarrassed as soon as the words come out of her mouth but she's glad she's finally said it.

"I love you too, Bella, but you're staining my dress…"

)O(

_1979_

"It's a shame how even if one member of a family was a hero, the rest could be criminals."

The comment is out of the blue and the two sisters glance at each other in confusion.

"My Lord?"

"And if there's one bad apple, I have to punish the whole batch."

Narcissa has never been punished by the Dark Lord, so she has no idea what's coming. She's confused but she doesn't dare ask what he's talking about.

Bellatrix knows better. It's rare that she's a victim to the Dark Lord's torture but she's seen enough of her fellow Death Eaters fall to the floor in utter agony to know what the slight twitch of her Master's hand means.

"My Lord, pl–"

She's thrown against the wall by an invisible force and her breath's knocked out of her. There's something twisting inside of her and she can feel it shrinking but getting tighter and then it erupts, and she screams as it's let outside of her body and travels up her throat–she starts coughing up blood, but just as she's doubled over, she's knocked to the floor stomach-first and she can feel a rib break, and Narcissa's shrieking, begging the Dark Lord to stop, clutching at his robes and then he slaps her so she, too, falls to the floor, and she tries to crawl to her big sister but he stamps on her hair so some of it rips off of her scalp. She yelps, her eyes as wide as they can go and she wants Bellatrix to stop this pain but she doesn't; in fact, she's shuffled into the corner, watching her sister be hurt like this and Narcissa doesn't understand.

And then he's screaming '_Crucio_!' and she blacks out.

* * *

When she wakes up, she's in bed with Bella by her side in a thin little nightgown.

Bella removes the cold towel from Cissy's forehead and sighs.

"Don't do that again."

"Do what?"

"Try and prevent his actions. Try and save me from it."

Narcissa blinks. "Why not?"

"Because otherwise _that _happens."

She looks down, but then she notices the blood on the inside of Bellatrix's thigh.

Her eyes widen.

"He _raped _you?" she whispers.

Changing the subject, Bella stands up from the bed.

"I found out what it was all for, anyway. Reggie's dead."

Narcissa doesn't see the tears her sister sheds while she walks out of the room.

)O(


	3. Change

_A/N: OH MY GOD I AM SO SO SO SORRY THAT IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I UPDATED THIS. My life's been busy as anything and I just haven't found time to do this… Gah. _

_I'm sorry for not writing this sooner. And I'd also like to say, I went through the other chapters and I've edited the mistakes that were there that I didn't realise :p the website often messes up my documents so I apologise if there are any mistakes in this chapter._

_And thank you for the reviews, favourites and follows! It means a lot!_

)O(

_1980_

Narcissa brushes her finger against the newborn's cheek. The baby wriggles in her arms, and she smiles, looking at his face with adoring eyes.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," she whispers, kissing him on his forehead.

She looks out the window and into the spring night. Light rain falls from the skies and strong winds blow against the Manor's window.

Sighing, Narcissa holds Draco closer to her body.

She truly hates the Ministry. It is their fault that her husband is not here spending time with his family.

)O(

_1981_

Bellatrix Lestrange sits in an armchair in front of a fire, unnoticed by the drunken and drinking Death Eaters. She drums her fingers on the arms, each hand placed there as if they have been seated in thrones. Glancing at the grand-father clock in the corner, Bellatrix closes her eyes and tells herself not to worry so much.

_He should be here by now._

Oh, shut up.

_What if something's gone wrong? What if he's been caught? What if someone has won a duel with him?_

_Nothing _will have gone wrong. The Dark Lord is the most capable man in existence. He is invincible. He can not be beaten.

_Snape might have changed his mind… he might have gone running back to the Order with second thoughts about his precious Lily..._

Bellatrix sneers.

I may despise Severus, but I do not believe he is quite so foolish enough to betray the Dark Lord.

_The Dark Lord may not be able to deal with him…_

_I _still could–

Bellatrix is cut off when she feels an agonising pain in her left arm. She lifts the black lacy sleeve of her dress up, and watches in horror as the Dark Mark burns once–a burn that seems to go on forever–and then fades gradually away.

She can not believe it.

She has dedicated half of her life to Lord Voldemort, and now she can only scream in disbelief, hot teardrops stinging in her eyes as her world crumbles around her.

)O(

_1982_

Bartemius Crouch sneers at the woman being forced into a seat by the Dementors. Chains wrap themselves around her small pale wrists, and Crouch expects a cry from the woman, but she remains silent; she merely cocks one of her arched black eyebrows upwards.

Bellatrix Lestrange's aristocratic features seem to _mock _him. The way her eyes flick up to meet his, the gentle toss of her locks, the small laugh she gives before turning her head back to look at the stone floor.

It is almost as if she is sharing an inside joke.

Alone.

"Where is your colleague, Madam Lestrange?"

Her jaw is set. Her eyes are slits.

"As if you didn't know Alastor Moody killed him."

The words are quiet.

"With a killing curse."

Now they are bold.

She lets out a single shriek of laughter.

"Ironic really, isn't it? The way you have sentenced me to Azkaban for using such a curse, and yet you stand by and let an _Auror_ killone of the Dark Lord's servants."

Crouch bangs his fist on the podium in front of him, the noise echoing around the room.

"Alastor Moody used that curse in justice!" Crouch bellows. "You have used it to spread fear through both the Wizarding and the Muggle worlds!"

"We used it for justice, too."

Bartemius is now the one laughing bitterly. "Murdering innocent people is hardly killing for justice."

"They did not deserve to live."

"Is that what your Master taught you?"

"It is the truth."

The comments are shot back and forth. Neither Bellatrix nor Bartemius blink for a long period of time.

Crouch looks away.

"I do not know why I even allowed you to have a trial. You deserve to be put in Azkaban without a second thought almost as much as your _Master_ does–did."

His last word finally gets a real reaction out of Bellatrix.

"_Don't you dare talk about him as if he is dead_!"

The scream is the most terrible noise Crouch has ever heard.

"He'll come back, Crouch! He will rise again, and he will take control once more, and he shall avenge you for all you have done to our cause!"

"TAKE HER OUT!" he roars to the Dementors. "THROW HER IN A CELL AND NEVER–_NEVER_–LET HER ESCAPE!"

_No one has ever escaped Azkaban. She will not. The Dark Lord will_ not_ rise again._

He throws a Silencing charm at Bellatrix as she is dragged through the door, but it does not work the way he hopes. He can still hear her when she has been taken out of the Ministry. The high-pitched, deranged yelling rings in his ears even as he lies in bed, his hysterical wife next to him, crying in her sleep for their son.

)O(

_1983_

"Where've you been?" Andromeda asks Ted when he walks into their home, his cloak wet from the rain.

He looks taken aback at her presence and the fact she's stayed up waiting for him. He's flushed but knows he can't lie to his wife.

"I… Well, I've been to Diagon Alley, 'Dromeda, and I know we're a bit tight for money and I wanted to leave it as a surprise–but…"

She blinks. He holds out a red box and she opens it, beaming at the contents.

It's a simple, silver ring with a small ruby. She knows it must have cost a lot and that it's not that much to boast about, but she's silently crying as Ted puts it on her finger and she wraps her arms around his neck as he kisses away her tears.

"Happy birthday, love."

)O(

_1984_

A piece of parchment and a peacock-feathered quill lay on the desk. Narcissa sighs, unsure of what to write. She _needs _to write a letter to Bella. It's been exactly two years since she got put into Azkaban and Narcissa misses her so much it truly does hurt.

She reaches into one of the draws and pulls out a book of photographs. It's something she's kept a secret for years, because she knows if she showed it to Bella then Bella would throw it into flames, telling her sister that it deserves to burn, that the pages are already ruined with a blood-traitor's face, and anybody else would scoff at Narcissa, telling her she was living in the past.

So she pulls out a photo of her, Bella, Lucius and Draco. It's not a perfect photo by any means – in fact, quite the contrary. Bella and Lucius are scowling at each other, having had an argument moments before the picture was taken. Narcissa is weary-looking and has bile on her dress from Draco, who is chewing at his mother's hair. No, it's definitely not a good picture but it's one that Narcissa treasures with her heart, and not knowing what to write to Bella, she merely puts the photo in an envelope and gives it to her owl, knowing that there's nothing in the picture that the Ministry could use against them. Lucius's excuse of he and Cissy being under the Imperius curse could still be believed in the picture as their excuse for being in Bellatrix's company, so Cissy tells her owl who the photo is for and the owl sets off.

She slumps back into her chair.

She much preferred life when the Dark Lord was in power.

)O(

_1985_

Bellatrix is standing still, looking out towards the North Sea. She is scanning the horizon for anything beyond the seemingly endless water, but nothing to her interest happens. The pink sun is shown for a fraction of a second, before grey clouds cover it once more and it dips below her vision, and she can spot the stars–_her star_–the moon and the planets.

Breath catching in her throat, Bellatrix snaps her eyes shut–

Mistake.

_Andromeda's soft brown waves disappear as she turns a corner, and Bellatrix chases after her sister, tackling her to the ground._

"_I hate you," Andromeda snaps._

"_And why would that be, Andy?"_

"_You never let me play what _I _want!"_

"_Your games are boring."_

"Your _games are terrifying!"_

_Bellatrix flashes a grin at Andromeda. "For you. Frankly, I don't find them terrifying enough."_

)O(

_1986_

As a child, Narcissa was treated to anything her heart desired.

When she started to attend Hogwarts, whatever she asked for–necessary or unnecessary–her parents would send it to her by owl.

And then she was married off to Lucius and he treated her with surprises and attended to her wants.

Lying in bed with her husband now, she lights her wand with a whisper of '_Lumos_.' She glances around the room; at the decorated walls and the jewellery boxes on her antique dresser, and she knows that she is easily one of the luckiest women in the world. But sometimes she wishes that people didn't see her as the spoilt Black girl with everything ever wanted–she occasionally wonders thoughts that her family or any pureblood would turn white at. She wonders what it'd be like to be a Muggle–shunned with rights far less superior to hers.

And the Muggle's rights are far better, she thinks. They have freedom.

And that is something no one can ever give her.

)O(

_A/N: Okay so usually I'd do more years than this and end I'd have tried to end it at 1990 but I don't think I have enough time for now to update this and I don't want to leave it any longer, so the next chapter will be a lot shorter, going through 987 – 1990 and then I'll go through 1991 – 1997 and then the last chapter will go through 1998._

_I am still so sorry for leaving the update this long._


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